Birds of passage rest momentarily at inns before continuing their flight to the four quarters of the world, and during such rest meet other birds of passage with sometimes curious results. Mr. A, a gentleman of swallow-like tendencies, on his way to the warm south, may linger for a night at an hotel where Miss B, due in some northern latitude, is also resting, with the result that Mr. A will delay his flight for an indefinite period; nay more, the juxtaposition of the two may end in A and B both continuing their journey as man and wife, which is the termination of all romance. Strange that a chance meeting at a place of public resort should alter two lives, but then life is made up of strange events, and a good many people date their happiness or misery from an accidental meeting at an inn. Gartney was letting his thoughts run on in this somewhat whimsical vein, as he smoked an after dinner cigarette over his coffee on the terrace at Villa Medici. Before him, huge and indistinct, arose the grand façade of the hotel, glimmering whitely in the moonlight, with its innumerable windows, its broad arcade, and its myriad lamps shining brilliantly on groups of gaily-dressed people who strolled to and fro amongst the pink-blossomed oleanders, or sat chatting gaily round small marble-topped tables, where white-cravated waiters, lithe and active, attended to their wishes. Beyond lay the lake, dark and solemn, under the shadow of the sombre mountains, at whose base gleamed orange-coloured points of light, telling of the presence of distant villages, while high above in the cold, blue sky, glowed the yellow orb of the moon and the glimmering stars. Through the leaves of sycamore, tamarisk, and magnolia sighed the soft breath of the night-wind, filling the air with cool odours, and the sound of music, rendered thin and fairy-like by distance, floated across the still waters from some slow-moving boat. An historic place this Villa Medici, with its palatial halls, its innumerable chambers, and its stately flights of white-marble steps; for it was here that the great Emperor intended to rest for a time in his victorious career, an intention never carried out, although everything was prepared for his reception, and the hotel guests now dine in the small saloon hung round with yellow damask stamped with the imperial 'N' and kingly crown.